


Fifty red roses

by vtholmes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Literally nothing but angst, M/M, Organized Crime, okay maybe there is a little bit of fluff but only in retrospective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtholmes/pseuds/vtholmes
Summary: "I have fifty red roses, one for everything I miss about you."It's the first St Valentine's day Janez is spending  without Alejandro. To show his love, he brings him a bouquet of fifty red roses, each with an individual meaning.
Relationships: Mexico/Slovenia (Hetalia)





	Fifty red roses

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from my wattpad account, link to original: https://www.wattpad.com/story/137642147-fifty-red-roses-mexislo-hetalia-fanfiction
> 
> Mexicos are ocs and belong to my friend mexicosgooglehistory on tumblr
> 
> yes, this was a short story for st valentine's day, and it was inspired by a rp

Janez sat down in front of the grave, even though the ground was freezing. He couldn't care less about that at the moment, honestly speaking.

"Hi," he spoke to the gravestone.

It didn't answer.

Of course it didn't. It was a stone with a name and dates on it.

He looked towards the entrance of the graveyard. Hector, who let him on the property, was now also standing guard.

Janez belonged to a different family. A rival one. It wouldn't be safe for him if he was alone.

He turned back on the stone and muttered: "I have fifty red roses, one for everything I miss about you."

He took the first one from the bouquet.

"Your smile," he said quietly.

"Remember when we first met? I just finished the academy back then, moved out away from Roderich and Erszebet and thought I could forget the past.

You were there in a bar, I guess on duty now that I think about it ... Maybe you seemed suspicious."

Jan shrugged.

"Something on you definitely caught my eye. And you got up and bought me a drink, I didn't smile much but you did for the both of us. You made it seem so easy, when it's not really.

And then after we started living together, the first thing I saw each day was your smile. And I got used to it.

I smiled back, and I kept smiling and laughing with you. I miss those days when being happy was the easy thing to do."

He set the rose on the grave and took the second one.

"Your laugh," he began.

"It was so contagious, Ale, you can't imagine. Just like smiling, I didn't laugh much either.

But with you, it seemed so easy.

I don't remember when you laughed first, you laughed all the time. Or giggled. Or chuckled, snickered or snorted. It depended on the occasion.

I wish I had something to laugh about now. This way, you wouldn't have to watch me returning back to the emotionless man I was before."

For a moment, his eyes rested on the flower in his hands, while he blinked away the tears.

He set the second rose on the grave and took the next.

"The third one," he took the flower into his hand. "... Your voice."

A single tear fell down his cheek, followed by others. He couldn't even hear well and he was slowly forgetting how Ale's voice sounded. How could he claim to miss his voice?

He continued anyway. "I miss you talking, about anything really. You could make anything sound interesting, and your voice was so calming.

I wish I could talk with you now, that it wouldn't be just a one-sided conversation. I wish you could answer.

Ale I miss talking with you so much, you can't imagine."

The third rose was set down to the ground.

He took the fourth.

"Your singing."

His lips gently touched the petals.

"You sang to me when I was sad or when I was scared or when I couldn't sleep.

Last year, you sang me a song for St Valentine's Day. I wanted to sing something to you today, but-"

He broke down into a sobbing fit.

"Alejandro, please come back, please ..."

He slowly calmed down a bit and wiped his tears.

He set the flower down and quickly turned to look towards the entrance. Hector was talking with a shady person, who knows about what.

The person left in a hurry and Janez turned back to the grave.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he said, "my father wouldn't let me. I'm skipping a meeting."

He feared the consequences once he was going to return, but for now, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Alejandro.

He took the fifth rose.

"Your calls," he said, rolling the flower between two fingers.

"I could always call you when I needed you. Some days, I look at your name in my phone contacts and imagine how it would be if I called.

I imagine you pick up the call, but I know it's impossible. I'd just get a note about nonexistent number.

I miss your calls, they calmed me down and helped me think."

More tears followed as he set the rose to the ground.

He took the sixth with a tiny smile.

"That one might be cheesy, but your jokes."

He smiled. "Remember that joke you told me? About a mathematician? That was the first joke that sincerely made me laugh. I still laugh at it, it's so smart.

It made me forget about a storm the first time you told it and I think about that moment all the time."

He quietly giggled and set that flower down too.

He shakily took the seventh and wiped the tears still falling down his cheeks.

Jan softly smiled. "I miss how silly you acted."

"Remember when we went for a walk in the park and you decided it was a great idea to walk on the edge of the fountain?

We were dating for about a month then. I still wasn't good at showing my feelings and you being silly and pretending you were going to fall made me smile.

Then you actually fell.

That made me worried but then, I guess it was the confused look on your face, I started laughing.

You also gave me a fistful of fountain money.

I miss those moments when I would boop your nose and you'd cross your eyes. Then you pretended to be stuck that way."

Jan smiled, despite the fact he was starting to cry even more.

He looked up towards Hector, hoping for emotional support he knew he wasn't going to get.

He seemed nervous for an emotionless man. And he also seemed nervous for the most powerful man in the city.

Janez didn't know why Hector was nervous, and he was hoping he won't have to find out the reason.

He turned back to the grave and set the rose next to the others.

He took the eight one.

"Holding hands," he spoke again.

"I miss holding hands with you. My hand in your hand, our fingers intertwining ..."

His voice trailed off and he decided to shut up before he started sobbing again.

As the previous flowers, this one also was set down on the grave.

Hector's nervousness was contagious and Janez felt how he was slowly getting nervous as well.

He took a deep breath and took the ninth rose from the bouquet.

He brushed over a petal with his finger. "Your touches."

"I miss the way you touched me. Your skin was soft, and warm, and your touches calmed me down.

I guess just your presence was enough to calm me down."

Barely audibly, he added: "Maybe it would be enough to make me feel like I'm not the worst person on the planet."

He knew it was a stupid thing to hope for. He'd still feel terrible, even if Ale was with him.

He put down the flower and then took the next.

"Your kisses."

He twirled the flower between his fingers. "Your lips were so soft the first time we kissed.

It was our first or maybe second date, I don't remember well anymore. Before that, it was all kisses on the cheek that made me blush and look away.

You were walking me to my apartment that day. We were holding hands and I was telling you about my work at the police station.

You seemed interested and even though I didn't like my job all that much back then, I tried to make it sound interesting.

When we stopped in front of my door, you pulled me into a kiss. I was surprised at first.

Kisses are another thing that you made seem easy. A simple act of affection that I wasn't used to before.

Your lips were warm, and soft and gentle, and I slowly kissed back.

You said that I'm a good kisser back then, but I think you were just trying to boost my confidence."

The memory of how Ale's kiss felt was still fresh in Janez's mind when he set the rose down.

He took the eleventh rose, trying to not look back up to see how Hector was doing.

"Your hugs."

He glanced up at Ale's name on the headstone before looking back down at the rose. "I miss the way you hugged me. I miss how secure it made me feel, like everything is going to be alright. I wasn't a hug person and I'm still not, but I'd let you hug me anytime."

After he set the flower down, he couldn't resist it anymore and looked towards Hector.

He was even more nervous than before, pacing between the two ends of the entrance. His hand rested on his gun.

Janez's fingers fidgeted. He took the twelfth rose so he would distract himself.

"Your smell," he listed the next thing.

"You always smelled so good," he started, "like homemade food, and the seaside. I think some of your clothes might still smell a bit like you, but I never tried."

He sighed and smelled the rose. It didn't smell like Ale. Faintly, it smelled as the roses should, but the smell of the fragrance they added to the flowers in the store to make then smell better was present even more.

He put that flower down too before taking the next one.

"Your warmth."

He was slowly starting to realize how cold the ground and the winter air were. It was slowly starting to snow.

"You radiated warmth, like a heater. I miss the nights when I was cold and you'd wrap yourself around me until I stopped freezing.

And it wasn't the only way you were warm in. Your personality was warm too. You made my cold melt away.

Now that you're not here, I feel so cold."

He shivered, emphasising his statement. Another rose was set to the ground and another was taken out of the bouquet.

"Spending evenings with you."

He remembered those evenings every night before he drifted into restless sleep.

"I miss those evenings when we could forget about anything and just eat dinner and watch soap operas.

I miss the way we always ended up cuddling in some way or another and I miss how close we were.

I miss how we could forget about the world around us, as if it didn't exist and we were the only people who lived."

He once again turned towards Hector. There were a few more men in black suits now, all of them with their hands on the guns.

He nervousily looked back to the grave and set down another flower.

He took the fifteenth.

"Your eyes. I know you didn't like the colour, too similar to your father's, but I got lost in them every time you let me see them the way they were.

I liked green, I still do. It reminds me of you, Ale.

I miss those times when you took out your contacts to calm me down. It was the one thing that was definitely going to work."

Anther rose down. Thirty-five to go.

He took the sixteenth. He could feel the nervousness growing and his heartbeat was beating somewhere in his ears.

"Your hair. It felt soft like silk when I went through it with my fingers. I miss the times when you let me braid it."

He'd say more, but he felt like he needed to hurry. There was unexplainable tension in the air, and he still held thirty-four flowers in his hands.

He let the one he was holding in his free hand fall down as he took the seventeenth flower.

"Talking about your hair, I miss how you purred when I went through it with my fingers.

I was so surprised the first time you did that. It was so cute. You were cute."

Janez softly smiled as he set down the flower, knowing well that Alejandro would disagree with that statement.

He nervously glanced towards the entrance. There were even more shady men now.

He took the eighteenth flower.

"I miss your cooking too. I tried cooking the way you did, but it never tasted so well as it did when you cooked.

I got so used to your cooking, mine tastes dull now. I don't have much spices to cook with, maybe that's why."

Jan sighed. His breath was shaky from the tension in the air.

He set down the rose, and took the nineteenth.

"Most of all, I miss your quesadillas."

He smiled.

"My favourite comfort food, and you always made them so good ... hah, rhyme ..." A small smile appeared on his face.

"They made me feel so much better and I miss them."

Just when he finished the sentence, a loud bang shook the cold winter air. He jumped in surprise and the rose fell out of his hand.

He looked up, seeing a caravan of black cars parked in front of the entrance.

Hector and some of his men were pointing guns at the men who stepped out of those cars.

One of them, not a Fernandez, was on the floor, laying in a pool of their own blood.

He couldn't tell who shot, but he knew who came. It was his father and his men.

He was frozen in fear, his hands clenched around the stems of the red roses. He could feel the thorns sink into the skin of his fingers.

The man, his father, said something. He was too far away to hear or see what was said, but whatever it was seemed to make Hector a little less emotionless and angrier.

Janez turned to the grave.

"Ale, they found me, what should I do?"

His memory recalled the last year. Those few weeks he and Ale spent on the run away from that life, away from their lives as slaves of the system.

They were the most intense days he could remember.

"I'm scared," he muttered, "but I won't run."

His hands squeezed around the bouquet more, thorns digging deeper into his fingers.

"I won't be able to tell you the rest," he started, "but those, last ones, they mean that I miss everything about you."

He was shaking, the angry voices were getting closer and shooting could be heard from everywhere.

He set down the other 31 roses, with their individual meanings unsaid and turned around.

Hector looked almost like a child, trying to stop Janez's father from getting any closer to him. It would've been funny, but it wasn't a laughing matter.

Janez remembered the day Alejandro was killed.

How Antonio, his grave was now on the other side of the graveyard, shot his own son like it was nothing.

The time in the hospital.

Hector accepting his role as the heir of the crime ring, given to him by his cousin.

And the worst decision he made in his life - accepting a _job offer_ by his father.

He didn't know why he was remembering that day, or the days after that.

But there was his father, angry. He slowly stood up and glared at the man, knowing that whatever was coming was going to hurt.

Janez reached into his pocket and his hand clenched around the photography of his mother he always carried around with him.

"What did I tell you, boy?" the man spoke.

"That ... you're going to kill me, if I ... go here today?" His voice skipped and octave while he spoke.

"Exactly."

Jan glanced at his father's hand, resting in his pocket. He definitely had a gun.

"But you still won't listen ... it's your whore mother's fault."

"My mom was twice the man you will ever be."

He expected the slap that followed and threw him to the ground. He fell on the roses.

He tried to get up, but before he could, his father grabbed the collar of his shirt.

"Pathetic," he snorted, "what else to expect from a bastard like you?"

Jan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, his father slammed his head into the headstone.

The last thing before he was consumed by darkness was infinite pain.

**one year later**

_Two men are standing in front of the graves. The taller one, Primož, was brought there by the shorter one, Hector._

_Earlier, they've set a wreath on the grave and now they're just quietly watching while snow is slowly falling._

_Where there was one grave last year, there are two now._

_The one on the left is a few months older than the one on the right._

_The newer one will be there soon for one year._

_Between the headstones, there is another one, solely for a quote. Primož is the proud author of that one, even though he's not good at romantic stuff. He tried, for his cousin._

_There, they rest:_

_Alejandro Reyes_  
_1996 - 2017_

_and_

_Janez Cankar_  
_1996 - 2018_

_"They couldn't be joined in life, but they found each other in death." - P. C._


End file.
